Hey Juliette
by Vallentyne
Summary: Thanks for the support guys, but i just found out that I can't post this story here cause One Direction are real people, so i'm posting it on one direction fan fiction .com but without the spaces So far its pretty sweet and my pen name over there is the same so please come find me over there :
1. Chapter 1

**Hey all. i'm Gonna be writing from all POVs most likely, but ill try to keep the switching to a minimum. Starting with Juliette Sinclair.**

Juliette POV

"Last call, now boarding flight 216 out of Nice to London. Dernier appel, désormais vol d'embarquement 216 sur Nice pour Londres."

Oh crap that's me! I grabbed my coffee and my laptop bag and slung it around my shoulders as I ran to my gate. I made it just as the lady at the flight desk was closing the door.

"Wait! Wait! S'il vous plait!" The woman glanced at me, my outstretched ticket, and my most likely chaotic appearance before waving me through the door. I ran onto the plane and slung myself into the first class seat. I settled myself in and started to fall asleep. An hour into the flight, my attendant stopped by to wake me and let me know that we'd be landing in Paris in a half hour. I pulled out my laptop to double check that my layover was long enough for me to pick up real food, rather than McDonald's or the like. I had an hour and change so I figured I'd stop somewhere yummy but fast before I changed out of my pjs. I hated red eye flights, but at the last possible minute, this was the only thing available.

It was a relatively uneventful hour. The plane landed, everyone rushed to get off asap. I waited til the end to exit, cause I knew some connecting flights only laid over for fifteen minutes. I was humming to myself when I realized something. Something horrible.

I left my baggage in the coffee shop. In Nice. I was moving so I'd be getting the rest of my wardrobe in a month or so, which meant that, as of right now, I had a pair of red converse, two ratty old t-shirts, a too-big pair of sweats, and a pair of grey leggings. I didn't even have my contacts! Well, I'd be lucky to get the job I had applied for. Screw that, I'll be lucky if I don't die from embarrassment. I was broke too, one of those starving college kids. I had saved up all my money for my two hundred pound plane ride over here and my first month's rent for my new apartment, so I literally had no money in my bank account. I had eleven and change pounds in my jacket pocket for bus fare and maybe a coffee. Definitely not enough for actual food or for clothes. 'Great. This moving idea is going fan-freaking-tastic'. I decided to just stick with my new motto "Screw it" and ignore the misfortune. I went back to singing to myself.

"Tell me you've had trouble sleeping  
That you toss and turn from side to side  
That it's my face you've been seeing  
In your dreams at night"

I'd been writing my own music for a while, ever since I decided to move last year. Don't get me wrong, I love my parents, they've supported me and they're amazing, it's just that there are certain things they approve and certain things that they really really don't. Take for example, my piano lessons. When I was five, I decided I loved piano and wanted to become the best there was after reading about Van Cliburn, a young American who traveled overseas to compete in Russia during the Cold War. The 'bad guy' as I liked to think of him, actually awarded Van the first place because he was the best, regardless of the fact that he wasn't a soviet. So I decided that I wanted to be the best and travel everywhere. I practiced everyday and I loved it. I only ever played Tchaikovsky, Rachmaninoff, if it was written after 1950, it was too 'new'.

My parents only approved of classical music, so that's all I had. I loved it, but last year, I heard a song playing loudly at our neighbors house and fell in love with it. I figured I was sixteen now, I could rebel without too many repercussions, so I went online and downloaded everything I could by the artist, a band called the Beatles. I fell in love with that music then too. It went on like that for months, me learning everything I could get my hands on and writing out the music for it when my parents came home and heard me playing a pop song. They looked at my iPod and saw all the new music on it and they saw that I started following pop culture and dressing so you could actually see my knees and they freaked out. They closed me off and pulled me out of my home schooling group. They're both professors so I got my very own private teachers for my final year of school. It was in that claustrophobic little world that I decided to move away, and I figured that since I'd basically finished my four-year degree through homeschooling and professors mere and pere, I could attend a few classes at the Royal Academy of Performing Arts in London. That's where any and all of my winnings from past piano competitions went, so I'd already paid for my first year of class.

That little verse was something I literally dreamed up and I hadn't been able to get it out of my mind since. I tried to finish it, but the rest just hadn't come to me yet. By now I had returned to my jet and prepared myself for my hour and twenty minute ride to London.

**Can anyone guess the song? I don't own it and i'll be putting more of it up as i go.**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

_Previously:_

_By now I had returned to my jet and prepared myself for my hour and twenty minute ride to London._

Juliette POV

I slept through the entire plane ride and awoke to the blinding fear you have when you wake up somewhere you've never been. You know what im talking about, that horrid feeling that you've been kidnapped and transported halfway round the world? Yeah, that one. Being a sleepwalker, you'd think I'd have gotten used to that, but I guess it's just one of those things that you never get used to. I glanced down and saw the rather embarrassing spot of drool on my oversized knit sweater. "Merde!" I swore and started rubbing furiously on my sleeve when the flight attendant came over.

"Miss, do you require anything?" I don't mean to be offensive, but are all British women so snooty? Maybe it's just the accent. She was looking down her nose at me and I could feel the contempt rolling off of her in waves.

"No, ma'am. I do not require your services at this time." I replied with a sickly sweet smile and an icy stare. She just humphed to herself and stalked away.

The plane began its descent and fifteen minutes later we touched down on the tarmac. Now that I had zero luggage to drag to my new flat, I could go straight to the job interview. I was applying to be a personal assistant to one of the artists working at the Syco Label recording studio. I'm pretty sure that my experience in the competitive music circuit is the only reason I made it past the initial rounds, considering I've never been anyone's personal anything before, and I've never held a job before. But hey, why not be an optimist? The same thing will happen either way, I'll just be happy until it does, rather than mopey and depressed.

And so, with a better attitude than I imagine most people'd have, I set out for my-fingers crossed- new place of employment.

My jaw literally dropped when I walked through the revolving door. Glass walls lined the marble lobby. There was this waterfall thing going on behind the logo and everyone in there was dressed in the latest in business couture. Women sashayed around in black skirts and silk tops and men strolled through carrying Caffe Nero coffee cups and briefcases. There was a low buzz of conversation and everything seemed pretty laid back for such a huge label. There were no crazy people running frantically through the boardroom door's strewing papers everywhere and tearing out their hair.

The second thing I noticed was the long, long, looong line of young women pushed up against the wall. Two men were walking down the line at the other end, one making a comment and the other writing something on a clipboard. Every fifteen or so women, the man with the clipboard would call out some names and ten or eleven women would leave, several in tears.' Wow. I guess this job pays more than I expected'. They continued down the line and I saw they were actually nearing the end so I jumped in between a tall woman in high heels and a short skirt and a middle aged lady with a scowl. As the two interviewers approached, I could start to make out what they were saying. They paused in front of me and I heard the man with the clipboard read off my information.

"Sinclair, Juliette Elise. Age 17. Born in Nice, France. Attends Royal Academy of Performing Arts, London. No past-"

"She passes."

And they moved on. In the end, one other girl was passed on to the next round with me. I walked over and introduced myself, but when I stuck my hand out to shake hers, she eyed my ratty old sweater and my 'comfy' pants and sneered in distaste before flipping her hair and stalking away. Apparently that was not a quality they were looking for in their PA cause the clipboard guy walked over shortly after and asked her to leave. She gave me one more grimace before skulking out of the building.

Clipboard man walked over and introduced himself as Stanley Reynolds and introduced the other man as 'Paul, just Paul'. Stanley and Paul herded all of the remaining twenty and change women into a large antechamber with a table full of water and some couches and magazines. Then, he began taking us into the adjacent room, one girl at a time, in the same order as last time. Of course, this made me last so I settled in next to some other hopefuls and grabbed a magazine. On the cover were five very very VERY attractive young men, so I flipped inside and began reading about them. Every other minute or so, Stanley would pop his head out the door and call a name. After three or four girls, I just started tuning him out and reading through the magazine on the way to the five boys' page. I had just gotten to a page titled One Direction with those teens from the cover when Stanley came over and tapped me on the shoulder. I gave him my warmest smile and followed him into the little office next door.

"Welcome Miss….Sinclair, is it? Hello, how are you doing today? Sorry about the wait, but this is a pretty special job, as I'm sure you know." Paul greeted me.

"I'm fine thanks Mr. 'Just Paul'." I answered, using air quotes. "And I know being a PA will be a special job, but I'm sure I can handle whatever you throw my way."

"She's got a good sense of humor. Louis will like that." He kind of sidenoted to Stanley. "I see here you already finished your bachelors degree in business management and are getting ready to enter classes at the Performing Arts school just down the road."

"Yessir. That's the plan anyways. It seems my plans don't really want to work out these days though, so who knows, really?"

"An optimist too? Well, I just have one last test for you. Fold this sweatshirt." Paul said and tossed me a sweatshirt. Being the uncoordinated fool that I am completely missed it, despite Paul's accurate aim, and had to get up to fold it. I picked it up and saw that it was a purple Jack Wills hoody. I folded it up and laid it down in front of me.

"There you are, sir. Who's jacket is that anyways?" I asked.

"That's Harry's jacket. Harry Styles." Paul answered before scooting back a little in his chair and half shielding himself with my resume.

"oh. That's nice, then, but can't he fold his own clothes?" I asked.

"She's hired."

And that was the last thing Paul said to me before Stanley ushered me out of the room and back towards the lobby.

"Okay, new introductions. I'm Stanley and I'm Paul's PA. That's Brenda at the desk, you call her if you're sick. You really won't interact with the rest of these people, except on special occasions, so I'll leave those introductions for your own time. The boy's have the entire seventh floor to themselves. Business to the left, their space to the right. Your office will be straight ahead." Stanley listed off before pushing me into the elevator.

"Wait, but who's PA-" the doors closed in my face "am I?".

I rode the elevator up to the seventh floor humming to myself. When the doors slid open I headed towards the oak door that read Personal Assistant and had just grabbed the handle when I heard a scream. I ran down the hallway to the right and yanked open the door.

**Merde=damn it**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

_Previously:_

_When the doors slid open I headed towards the oak door that read Personal Assistant and had just grabbed the handle when I heard a scream. I ran down the hallway to the right and yanked open the door._

Louis POV

We were all ripping open our fan mail and someone was always chuckling or bragging or otherwise making noise except for me. I kept grabbing an envelope and feeling that sense of excitement, hoping maybe she'd written to me this way. I always reached for the extra thick ones cause I knew she'd probably stuff something in there as a joke to make peace after our break up. We'd been together so long; I didn't see it coming at all. I'd always thought she handled the wacked out fans and the nosy paparazzi wonderfully. She always made a joke out of their constant speculation about Harry and I and she never had a rude word to say when it came to the fans. So when she blew up and screamed at the reporter the other day, we were all shocked. Some stupid bloke had followed her home and knocked on the door. Ellie answered the door in her jams and he snapped a picture and she just….snapped. She tore the camera from his hands and threw it down. Then, she screamed that she and I weren't even together anymore so 'they' could all stop stalking her. So that's how I found out my girlfriend dumped me. Through a tabloid, just like everyone else. I didn't blame her, though. To be honest, if it was the other way around, I don't think I'd have stuck around as long as she did. But I like to pretend I'd at least give her a little warning before telling the rest of the world.

So every time I opened a fan letter, half of me hoped it would be her asking me to take her back and the other half dreaded the thought of it. I carefully slide my finger under the flap and opened the packet. "GOD DAMN IT ANOTHER CARROT!" I screamed.

When I looked up, all the guys were staring with wide eyes and open mouths. "Sorry, I was just really hoping someone caught my hint about Lamborghinis this time" I said and smiled my Isn't-Tommo-Funny smile. When they all laughed at my joke and returned to their own letters, I felt Liam sit down next to me.

"Look man I know how it feels. You don't have to pretend it doesn't hurt in front of us." He said to me gently. When Danielle broke it off with Liam, we could see how it destroyed him. It had been two months and he was still comparing girls to her. 'Oh look that one has brown hair just like Dani, oh look that one's a girl just like Dani.' We could all see how miserable he felt, but he wouldn't take out any of the chicks we set him up with, even though they were all quite fit, if I do say so myself, and I do. Honestly, I wouldn't have minded grabbing one or two for myself, but we all decided Lili needed this most. But apparently he didn't feel the same, seeing as he turned down each and every one of them, so we all decided we'd have to let him wallow a bit before really making him fix things up.

Liam looked so down right then that I decided to turn on the Tommo charm and make him smile. "You're right Liam! I could never hide my feelings from you!" I sighed dramatically and jumped into his lap. I pulled him close, gasped and stage whispered "Oh, Lili, hold me close!" right before Harry shouted out "What about me!"

"I'm sorry, Harry. From now on, Larry Stylinson is no more. It is now Lou-am…Li-ouis…aw screw it. Sorry Lili, I'm stickin' with Styles." I chuckled before ruffling his hair.

"Tease!" he shouted before shoving me off his lap and into the mountain of mail. Lying on those letters reminded me of fall when I was little and all the neighborhood kids would run around jumping into piles of leaves. I started rolling around in them and tossing them in the air and I could hear Liam shouting at me to 'Stop that this instant! I meant it!' before Harry joined me and we began throwing mail at each other and the other boys. We heard Zayn say "Oh no! Betteh get outta heeyah!" in his Vas Happenin voice before catapulting himself behind a couch and sticking his head up every ten seconds or so to drop mail-bombs on us from behind the couch. Personally, I think he was just trying to protect his beloved hair. Lili was still shouting at us and Niall had begun hoarding his food to protect it from our onslaught and Harry and I were pretty much shrieking with laughter in the pile of mail while letters rained down like in Harry Potter. I reached over and grabbed a few carrots that were lying on our heaps of mail to throw them at Liam. When Liam saw what i was about to do, he ran over and tackled me. I screamed a high pitched, girly scream that i would later deny and we started rolling and wrestling in the now considerably less mountainous pile of mail. Liam had just gotten two of the carrots when the door slammed open.

And that's when _**she**_ walked in.


End file.
